luckily, he seems to be feeling the same, so rather than plunging in with a resounding belly flop, we're standing at the edge, toes dangling apprehensively over the frigid waters and discussing the investment potential of the pool.
either it's PMS or belated realism, but the idea of running a bed and breakfast for someone who, year by year, is turning into more and more of a bitter misanthrope, is frankly odd. mr. monkey and i decided that if we do, we'll call it the Fuck Off Bed & Breakfast. our motto will be simple: "Welcome, Now Piss Off." i think the web design might be fun to do and i suspect there's a type of clientele that would love to be greeted with a hearty "fuck you." perhaps all those who have the latent tendencies but not the guts to hire a dominatrix, or those confused souls who'd think it was all a gimmick and that underneath our gruff, middle finger-popping exteriors we're really just sweet old souls who didn't mean it about spitting in the granola. as if.
so if we manage to go ahead, build ourselves a little solar powered house with a large garden and chickens, y'all are welcome to come and stay.
fuck you, come again.
*weird things. things i know nothing about. things to do with wells. and septic fields. and power lines. and all manner of incomprehensible stuff.